Draco and the Diamond Dogs
by Raven Blossom
Summary: [COMPLETE]Draco Malfoy discovers the wonders of glam rock and David Bowie. In the midst, romance blossoms. Slash.
1. This is Genocide

Thank you to the sex god, David Bowie, for inspiring this fic. Many thanks to my betas, Rachel and Dorothy.**

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**Chapter 1**

"This ain't rock and roll! This is genocide!!" a voice cried, as Draco entered the Slytherin common room. His head turned in the direction of the voice, his eyes falling upon Pansy Parkinson. She had a muggle cd player, and was listening to a muggle rock musician. Draco's ears perked up at the word 'genocide' and walked over to where she was sitting.

"What have you got there, Parkinson?" he asked, trying not to seem too interested.

"David Bowie," she replied, bobbing her head to the tune that was coming from the speakers. Draco listened for a moment. It was quite catchy, but he stopped himself before he could mimic her actions. Couldn't have people thinking he liked muggle music.

"As Head Boy, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to confiscate this," he said sternly, picking up the boom box and shutting it off.

"Hey! There are no rules saying we can't have mug..." she started, but he cut her off.

"No excuses, Parkinson, now go back to your homework," he replied, heading up to his private room, taking the music with him.

Once inside his room, he pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm. He then proceeded to his bed, where he sat examining the cd player. It had been a long time since Draco had liked a song. He pressed the 'on' button, and the same line he first heard came out from the speakers.

"David Bowie," he said softly. "Hmm.. sounds promising." The electric guitar's tune had sort of a hypnotic effect unlike Draco had ever heard before. It was so, beautiful! And the beat, it fit perfectly with his heartbeat.

"As they pulled you out of the oxygen tank, you asked for the latest party. With your silicone hump and your ten inch stump. Dress like a priest you was," the voice sang.

"What in the?" Draco commented. But soon enough he was taken again by the rest of the song. He found himself turning it up.

"The diamond dogs are poachers, and they hide behind trees."

"Ooooh!" he exclaimed. Suddenly aware that he had gotten off his bed, he began dancing with impetuous abandon. Sweat began to drip down his forehead and he stripped to his boxers, turning the music up even louder, and singing along with the few words of the chorus that he knew ("Call them the diamond dogs!"). Then the tune changed back to what it had been in the beginning, and he heard the singer howl. Draco howled along with him, laughing at himself. After a few more minutes, the song ended, and he collapsed onto his bed.

"What a brilliant song," he whispered to no one.

The next day, Draco found it very hard to concentrate in Potions class. The song was all that he could think about. Sadly, this distracted him from his task at hand and he ended up exploding his cauldron. The class looked up at Neville expectantly, but were shocked to see the smoke rising from Draco Malfoy's corner. Snape looked almost horrified.

"Malfoy," he snapped. "Stay after and clean up. You may make up the assignment later." Harry Potter shot daggers at Snape. Of course, he would never ever deduct points from his own House. And of course he would let Malfoy make up the assignment. _Prissy bastard_, Harry thought in Malfoy's direction, carefully pouring his finished potion into a vial.

As soon as dinner was over, Draco raced up to his room, cast the silencing charm, and shut his door behind him. Within minutes "Diamond Dogs" was blasting loudly and he was in a hypnotized state again. This time, though, he found himself atop his bed (again in only boxers) strumming an imaginary guitar, howling along with Bowie. It was ecstasy as he had never known it. He didn't even hear the door open.

Hermione Granger stood in the doorway with her eyebrows raised. Draco felt a sudden draft and opened his eyes.

"Shit," he muttered. He jumped off his bed and turned off the cd player. "Well, don't just stand there, close the door!" _Damn_, he thought, _I knew I'd forgotten something. Stupid locking charm._ Hermione's lips suddenly turned up in a grin.

"David Bowie?" she inquired, sounding very amused.

"Yes. You do realize I must kill you now?" he threatened, not meaning it at all. In secret, he and Hermione had become quite good friends. Being Head Boy and Girl forced them to work together a lot, and it only made sense that they got along. Plus, they actually had things in common. But both agreed for the sake of social stability, they would not change how they acted around eachother in public.

Hermione laughed. "Sure."

"Well, what is it then?" Draco asked, desperately wanting to get back to his music.

"The Headmaster wanted me to inform you that the both of us would be helping proctor the 5th year O.W.L.S. Since our N.E.W.T.S. are not on the same day, and neither of us would suffer at all from missing class, he figured we could give some of the teachers a break."

"You had to tell me that now? Those aren't for weeks!" he replied, slightly exasperated.

"Well, no actually. But I was walking past and I felt the hallway shake slightly. Even soundproofing your room won't stop the vibrations from shaking things," she chuckled. Draco sat on the foot of his bed, still not bothering to put on a robe.

"Fine. You've had your fun. Now be off with you. And if you tell anyone, I'll smite you!" He stood up and crossed to his bathroom, leaving Hermione to let herself out. She did. And while walking through the halls, back to her own private room, she couldn't help but smile. Draco was not the only 7th year male who had a weak spot for David Bowie.

* * *

Author's Note: dun dun dun...who could the other male be? 


	2. Hey Man, my schoolday's insane

**Chapter 2**

As he made his way to his room, Draco mentally kicked himself several times. It had become a regular occurrence in the past week for his cauldron to explode in Potions. And sooner or later, Snape's favoritism might disappear and he would find himself in detention for the rest of the school year. His teachers in his other classes had already lost their patience. McGonagall had given him extra homework after he had accidentally transfigured his desk into a tortoise. And the others weren't too pleased either.

But he couldn't help it. David Bowie was a god, and Draco only saw it fitting to dedicate most of his daily thoughts to him. After awhile, his curiosity got the better of him, and he had listened to the rest of the cd. Each song as brilliant as the one before it. Another of his favorites was "Rebel Rebel." The song made him laugh because it reminded him of himself.

He got to his room and let himself in, making sure to lock the door as well as silencing the room. He collapsed onto his bed and reached across to his nightstand. Soon, "Rebel Rebel" was blasting. When it got to the line "You got your mother in a whirl. She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl," he would laugh. As a young child, he had been extremely beautiful. And it was a regular happening of people mistaking him for the opposite sex. Obviously his own mother knew him to be a boy, but many others debated it mentally until they heard him addressed by his first name.

Draco sighed heavily, wondering how he was going to be able to pass all of his classes. There had to be a way that he could stay concentrated on his assignments without letting certain music gods into his head. There had to be a way. But how?

* * *

"Did you see that? I don't think I'll ever get sick of the confounded look on that git's face everytime his cauldron blows up," Ron exclaimed. He, Harry, and Hermione slipped through the portrait hole and found some chairs in the common room.

"Me too," Harry chuckled, taking a seat. Even Hermione found herself smiling. It was quite funny. Doubly funny because she knew the actual reason why he was so distracted. Suddenly, a very evil thought entered Hermione's mind. _No, no_, she thought. _That's way too mean. He's got enough to be distracted about. Oh but come on, it'd be so much fun. Oi, Harry and Ron have certainly rubbed off on me. Oh, what the hell_.

"Ron? Do you still have that David Bowie poster that your parents got you for Christmas?" she asked innocently. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, why? Fancy him yourself?"

"It's not for me. It's for a friend of mine," she replied.

"Uh, yeah. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Sure you can have it. Lemme just go get it then," he offered, running up to the boys' dorm. Harry looked over at his female friend. A very familiar grin sat upon her lips. It was foreign to her face, but Harry just couldn't place it right then. He shrugged. The mysterious workings of Hermione's mind were not things he had a desire to try and figure out. Whoever she ended up with would certainly be as complicated.

* * *

"Hey man, my schooldays insane. Hey man, my work's down the drain Hey man, well she's a total blam-blam. She said she had to squeeze it but she... then she..." Draco sang along. It had become a sacred ritual for him to strip down to his boxers and listen to David Bowie every night after dinner. Sort of his way of unwinding. Tonight's selection was "Suffragette City" and Draco lay upon his bed, eyes closed, letting the music wash over him. 

"Then she what, Draco?" came that familiar feminine voice. He opened his eyes and glanced over his chest. Granger stood in his doorway, clutching what looked like a rolled up poster. She closed the door behind her and turned the music down.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! I could have sworn I locked the door this time!" he cried, sounding very frustrated.

"Don't you ever pay attention in Flitwick's class? It's called _Alohomora_, smartass," she retorted. "I have something I think you'll like." With that, she unrolled the poster. On it was an extremely sexy man. He wasn't wearing a shirt and he was staring downward so that a bit of his hair was covering his face. The eyes had that piercing stare from under the bangs. It drove Draco mad. Such a chiseled body and oh, those eyes!

"Holy fuck," he whispered, scrambling off his bed to get a closer look. Draco drooled unashamedly. "Who, in the blazes is this hunky, sexy, dreamy, piece of man?" he asked, eyes holding a pleading gaze with Hermione's.

"That, my friend, is the one and only David Bowie. He-whom-you-worship-everyday," she replied nonchalantly. Draco looked at with disbelief all over his face.

"NO WAY! No fucking way! There is no way that a man can make such brilliant music, and be a sex god at the same time. Where's the balance? It's insane! You're lying!" he shouted.

"No I'm not. I swear it's him. Quite dishy isn't he?" she commented, looking down upon the poster in her hands. "Well, do you want it or not? Cause I know a couple other people who--"

"Don't you dare! He's mine!" Draco grabbed the poster from her hands and immediately tacked it up on his wall, continuing to stare at it.

"I thought you'd enjoy it. Well, I really must be going. I've got fellow students to reprimand," she said, opening the door. As she closed it, Draco called out "Wham bam Thank you ma'am!"


	3. Mannequins with kill appeal

i'm so so sorry. please don't hate me. because of my school work i've had to extricate myself from the fanfiction world. and that's why i haven't been updating. so now, to make up for my not being around, i give you:

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**Chapter 3**

Only was it when Draco found himself with a hefty report on Potions due after the coming weekend, did he realize what Hermione had done by giving him that poster.

"God damn you, Granger," he muttered. She had obviously done it on purpose.

Snape's report meant he would have to miss quidditch practice and spend his weekend in the library. As soon as he got there, he wasted no time and headed straight for the back where he knew all the books he needed would be. It's not like this would be a hard report. Just a lengthy one. Four feet long, to be exact. Who knew you could miss so much in two weeks?

He grabbed a couple books off the shelf and settled down at a nearby table. After about an hour or so he came to the part where he had to explain why Polyjuice Potions were made illegal. He realized that book was in the restricted section.

Being Head Boy though, this was no problem. He and Hermione were granted unlimited access to the restricted section, as sometimes Dumbledore would assign them small research tasks when he himself did not have the time. Scanning the shelves, he found Moste Potente Potions and grabbed it. Just as he was about to leave, he heard a voice, singing softly from the next aisle over. Draco cocked his head to the side so he could hear clearer.

"The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees. Hunt you to the ground they will, mannequins with kill appeal. Will they come?" _Holy shit, _he thoughtWhoever it was, was singing David Bowie Draco would recognize that line anywhere. Feeling a bit silly, he sang the next line.

"I'll keep a friend serene," he replied. The person had been walking, but stopped after hearing Draco.

'Will they come?" the voice sang again. It was actually a nice voice. One he was sure he hadn't heard before. The person took a couple steps toward the end of the aisle.

"Oh baby come unto me," he sang back, smiling to himself. A kindred soul who shared the same love of David Bowie. How wonderful! Draco advanced as well.

"Will they come?" came the voice again. A few more steps.

"Well, she's come, been, and gone," he answered. Draco came closer to the end of the aisle. There was a pause before the person sang the next line. No doubt they found this as strange as Draco did. Though strange in a good way.

"Come out of the garden baby, you'll catch your death in the fog," they sang.

"Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs," he finished, grinning hugely. Excitement was building up in his chest. Who could this possibly be? Not Granger. No, she can't sing.

"Young girl, they call them the Diamond Dogs," the person repeated, as the chorus did. At that moment they both came to the end of the aisle and met. The grin wiped itself off Draco's face.

"Potter?" he exclaimed incredulously. Harry took a step back, just as surprised.

"You like David Bowie?" Harry asked him with a raised brow.

"No Potter, I just enjoy exchanging lyrics of songs that I hate," he retorted sarcastically. "Of course I like him. I love him! He's a god! His music is bloody brilliant. The words are poetry and the guitar is hypnotizing. Why do you like him?"

"Same reasons as you. Plus, he's dead sexy," Harry replied. So, Potter fancied boys too? Wait. Why were they being totally honest with eachother? This was getting too weird.

"You know, this is really strange. So strange, I think we should just forget about it," he replied, glancing around them. No one had seen them. Good. "And not tell anyone," he added, before leaving quickly. Harry too was a little off center now.

* * *

Draco stared up at his ceiling, as the sex god played on in the background. Those moments in the library were probably the strangest ones he'd ever experienced. And that was saying a lot coming from him. His eyes closed. The next thing he was aware of was Hermione leading him down a Hogwarts corridor. She wouldn't tell him where she was taking him. Though he didn't think to ask. After awhile, they came to a door that was very insignificant looking. Draco wouldn't have given it a second's thought had he passed by it. He wondered what it held behind it and why Hermione had brought him there. 

She opened the door and led him inside. There stood a man in the corner, though Draco couldn't make out his face because of all the shadows. But he could see the body. And god damn, it was nice. He wore black tights and a white ruffled shirt with lacy cuffs, covered by a purple coat that had silver tracing on it. _Oh, come on out, let me see the face, please_, Draco pleaded mentally.

And as if hearing his thoughts, the man stepped out. Draco gasped. He was absolutely gorgeous. Black hair short at the top and spiked, but looking feathery soft. Towards the bottom the hair was much longer. Some of it fell along the frame of his pointed face. But his eyes. Dear god. They were piercing with one being emerald green and the other a light grey. It sent delicious shivers down Draco's spine. They were outlined in black and had silver eye shadow reaching up to the very dramatic eyebrows. He held something sphere-shaped in his hand.

"I've brought you a gift," he said softly, raising his hand. His palm opened and on it lay a small round glass ball.

"What is it?" Draco found himself asking.

"It's a crystal, nothing more. But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams," he replied. His voice was so hypnotically sexy. Draco took the crystal from his hand. A jolt shot through him as his fingers brushed the man's hand. Draco looked into it, and all he saw was green.

* * *

Draco had had that dream Friday night. It was now Monday morning, and he had finished the potions essay. It had taken him all weekend and he didn't sleep after he had the dream, but it was done. Still, he feared that because of the dream, his attention span would be next to nothing. So far, he was right. He was at breakfast with his forehead resting on the table. Slytherins around him babbled grumpily about having to be up so early and what their next scheme would be. Every now and then Pansy's ultra high pitched nagging voice would float to his ears and the dream would vanish from his brain momentarily. 

He sat like this for awhile, not noticing an owl sitting in front of him, looking very impatient. It finally began to peck at his hair and he sat up straight. _Who would be sending me mail?_ he thought, seeing that the owl was one of the school's. The owl hooted and he finally untied the small piece of parchment attached to its leg.

_**Oh you pretty things…**_

That was it.

"Oh…my…god…" he muttered slowly. There was only one person this could be from. What the fuck was Potter playing at? "I thought I told him not to ever mention it," he mumbled.

"Who is 'him', Drakey? Got a lover?" came Pansy's voice. Draco whimpered silently.

"Fuck off, Pansy," he snapped, and got up, leaving the Great Hall.


	4. Oh! You Pretty Things

**Chapter 4**

All day he was distracted. He felt a sense of digression because instead of one thing distracting him, it was three: David Bowie, his dream, and Potter's note. After his last class of the day, History of Magic, he went up to his dorm. The initial shock had worn off by then, but it still bewildered him. Potter, of all people. He liked David Bowie? _But he doesn't seem the type._ _Then again neither do I.. _Well, to himself he did. But to others, he guessed not. For hours he just lay on his bed, pondering the subject until his head hurt.

He pulled the parchment out of his pocket and stared at it.

_**Oh you pretty things…**_

Well, obviously he knew the next lyrics. But what would happen if he sent them back? What was Potter doing here? What were his intentions? Not knowing these things annoyed Draco to death. The only way to find out was to reply.

So he took out his quill and scratched out the remaining lyrics to the chorus. It felt weird, but kind of relieving as well. Draco really had no idea what would come of this, but what could it hurt?

That night at dinner, a white, brown-speckled school owl flew in and over to Gryffindor table. The owl in question landed right in front of Harry Potter and stuck out its leg. Without hesitation he untied it and leaned away from his friends so he could see if it was the reply he was waiting for. His eyes lit up as they read the following:

_**Don't you know you're driving**_

_**Your mamas and papas insane**_

_**Lemme make it plain**_

_**Gotta make way**_

_**For the Homo Superior.**_

A grin washed over his face as he put the parchment in his pocket. Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, hoping to catch a certain blonde's eyes. He was unsuccessful, but only for not making eye contact. He did not see the mischievous smile across his female friend's face.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had very few stable things in his life. Well, actually, that's a lie. He had many stable things in his life. But none that he looked forward to like he did Harry's notes. He had not told anyone, of course. And he assumed Harry hadn't either. What would people think? Gryffindor's golden boy and the badass prince himself exchanging notes of a flirtatious nature that included David Bowie lyrics. A huge scandal, if it got out, no doubt. Draco didn't care though. Well, for now he didn't. He knew it would be misunderstood. But in the future, if there was a future to this thing, whatever this thing was….argh…His head hurt. He'd been analyzing it so much lately. What he meant was, in the possible future, he wouldn't give a fuck if people knew.

Draco liked this strange sort of flirting with Harry. In sixth year, the animosity sort of just faded away. Mostly because Harry was so devastated and depressed for most of it, and because Draco was busy converting and ridding himself of his father and everything bad that went with him. He was still arrogant and sometimes a bastard, but since his father was dead, he found himself less tense. And it was nice.

And this thing with Harry, whatever it was, was nice too.

An owl flew in and interrupted his thoughts. But it was a welcome interruption for obvious reasons. Draco reached out and took the parchment from the owl, unrolled it and read the familiar slanted handwriting.

_**But the film is a saddening bore**_

_**For she's lived it ten times or more**_

_**She could spit in the eyes of fools**_

_**As they ask her to focus on….**_

"Ohh..good choice, Harry," Draco whispered, referring to the song. Smiling, he wrote down the corresponding lyrics and sent the owl off again.

* * *

"Tell me Ron, am I ever going to beat you?" Harry asked his friend, making a very bad move with his pawn. The pieces began yelling rude remarks at him.

"Oi, really Harry, do you need to ask that," Ron laughed, moving his queen so that Harry was in check.

Hermione suddenly came bounding down into the common room carrying something in her hands. Ron and Harry looked up at her from their chess game with questioning looks.

"Guess what I got?" she squealed.

"No clue Herm, what?" Ron answered.

"Oh, Harry, you're gonna love it. Did you know that David Bowie made a movie?" she inquired.

"He did?" Harry cried in disbelief. The chess game was forgotten.

"Yeah, and it's brilliant. I asked my mom if she would send me our copy and she did, along with a small TV and one of those dvd player thingies. Wanna watch it?"

"Do I!" he cried. With that, the three of them went up to the boys' dorm room and spent the afternoon ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the film's magnificence. Well actually, only Harry and Hermione. Ron wasn't really into David Bowie, though his parents had thought otherwise. They'd sent him that poster for Christmas because they'd heard that Harry loved Bowie, and so Ron must've too. The man was too poncy for Ron's taste.

Afterwards, Harry lay on his bed staring up at the canopy. Hermione went over and sat on the edge, thinking she knew of what he would ask next. They sat for a minute or two in silence_. Ok, maybe I need to prompt him_, she thought.

"So, you liked it then?" she asked innocently enough.

"It was fucking brilliant," he replied quietly. More silence. Just when Hermione was about to give up, he asked.

"Would you mind if I borrowed the movie? Well, and the other stuff. You know, so I could watch it again." _Ha, knew it_, she praised herself. Harry sat up and his green eyes pleaded with her.

"Oh, all right. But you better take care of it. If anything happens, I swear.." she warned.

"Yes, yes, I know. Don't worry. I'll take good care of him. I mean, it," Harry blushed.

* * *

Harry's latest note surprised Draco. It had not been a song lyric, but an actual question. Did he know that David Bowie had made a movie? By gods, no. But what a brilliant movie it had to be if he was in it. Of course Draco had heard of movies. When he had been younger, his mother would take him down to their basement (not dungeons) and would play old movies for him. The black and white ones specifically. But in his later years, Narcissa had let him watch color movies. And he had loved them. They were ingenious. Muggles weren't totally useless. Some of them were bloody brilliant directors, but he would never actually admit that.

He pulled out his quill and penned his response saying, no, he hadn't known, what about it?

Twenty minutes later the owl came back. Harry wanted to know if he wanted to watch it. With him. Wait a minute…passing notes was one thing, but to actually get together, to drool over this man together? Hormones would be flying. That could be scary. _Are you saying you're scared, Draco?_ came his argumentative inner voice. _No, of course I'm not! How dare you accuse me of that!_ _Malfoy's are never afraid! _And so he sent back an affirmative reply telling Harry to bring the movie and things to his room the next evening. The next day happened to be a Friday. _Date night_, whispered the voice again. _Yes, it is date night, so no one will notice Harry and I on our NON-date. Now shut up!_


	5. As The World Falls Down

**Chapter 5**

Harry strode up to Draco's room, DVD player, TV, and movie shrunken and in the pockets of his robes. He had a small feeling of apprehension. For what, he really had no clue. He found himself in front of Draco's door, and before he could knock, it opened.

"How did y-" Harry started, Draco stood up, cutting him off.

"I have wards of course. Now, before we get started, I just want to make a few things clear. We are watching this movie together. It is not a date. Just a get-together," Draco stated. Harry stared at him in surprise for a moment.

"Of course it's not a date. Why would you say that?" he asked, adjusting his collar slightly.

"Because it's Friday night and people would think otherwise. Mind you, people are stupid, but that's what they'd think." Draco paused for a moment. "Do you have it with you?" he inquired impatiently.

"Oh, yeah, where do you want me to set it all up?" Harry asked, pulling the various electronics out of his pockets. Draco pointed to a coffee table that sat across from a sofa. _Lucky Head Boy_, Harry thought. _Gets his own living room even._

In a few minutes everything was in place.

Draco sat in a big green armchair across from the TV, trying to hide his anticipation_. Anticipation of what?_ the voice asked. _The movie or something else perhaps? _Draco hit himself in the forehead, trying to pound the voice out. Harry noticed and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"What are you staring at, Potter? Put the movie on then," he ordered. Harry paused for a moment, thinking. "Why aren't you putting it on?" Draco inquired, becoming impatient again.

"Got any popcorn?" Harry asked.

"Popcorn?"

"Yeah, it's a muggle food made from corn kernels and it's really fluffy and you eat it when you watch movies," Harry answered.

"I know what it is, Potter, but no, I haven't got any," Draco retorted. He was starting to get annoyed.

"Oh well, I'll go get some, be back in a minute," and Harry went out the door. Draco let out a huge sigh.

"Merlin, that boy is almost insufferable! How did I ever think this would work?" he asked no one. Harry returned ten minutes later holding a bowl of fresh popcorn. Draco breathed in the scent. It'd been awhile since he'd had any. Harry set it on the table, and grabbed the remote for the DVD player. He sat on the couch and fiddled around with it a moment before the opening screen appeared. Another few moments and the movie was playing.

* * *

"Herm?"

"Ron, you know I don't like that nickname."

"Mione?"

"That one either."

"Herm-own-ninny?"

"RON!" Hermione threw a cushion at him and it hit his face hard. "What is it?" she asked, slightly huffed.

"Where's Harry?"

Ohh.. Hermione knew exactly where Harry was. Not that he'd told anyone. But she was Hermione Granger and she knew everything. Well, almost everything. Dumbledore knew everything, but that's not the point. She thought for a second, not sure how to answer.

"Shacking it up with Malfoy?"

"Ha ha," Ron replied sarcastically. "Seriously, where is he?"

"I don't know, why?" she asked, wondering what he could possibly want.

"He's not in Gryffindor Tower then is he?" Ron asked, glancing about the common room.

"No, he's not," she answered, getting antsy. What on earth could Ron be talking about?

"Then, erm, we could, er, make use of the dorm room," he coughed, getting up from his chair and standing in front of the stairwell. Red flushed his cheeks. It was adorable as hell.

"Oh," she smiled. _He may not be the king of eloquence_, she thought, taking his hand and following him up the stairs, _but he is mine_.

* * *

Draco was salivating so much, it was getting harder to keep up his mask of containment. Jareth, the Goblin King, was almost (Merlin forbid) sexier than David Bowie himself. He had just entered the nursery where Sarah's baby brother had been moments before. That hair and costume looked oddly familiar.

"I've brought you a gift," came Jareth's silky but evil voice. Draco jumped out of his chair in surprise.

"Holy shit!" he cried, startling Harry.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Harry asked, shaken up a bit.

"He was in my dream! This was in my dream! Except he had black hair, and.." Draco trailed off, realizing he was giving his private thoughts away. Then it hit him. He'd dreamed about Harry. Harry had been Jareth in his dream. But how could he have dreamt this scene when he'd never seen the movie?

Harry looked at him with a bewildered expression across his features.

"But the Goblin King doesn't have black hair," Harry stated, quite puzzled. Draco mentally sighed with relief. Thank Merlin Harry was SO incredibly thick. It would never occur to him why Jareth had had black hair in Draco's dream.

"Nevermind, forget it," Draco said sharply, sitting back down in his chair. His mind wandered for a little while before it settled back on the movie before him. On screen, Jareth had the baby, and was dancing around with the goblins.

"Dance magic dance!" he crooned, dancing quite provocatively. Come to think of it, Draco really did want to dance. It was such a fun song. But there was no way he would dance in front of Harry like that.

For awhile things were fine, until the Wild Things came on. What odd little creatures, taking off their limbs and chucking them about. _How is it that I never realized how uncomfortable this chair was?_ Draco asked himself silently. He shifted about, swinging his legs over the armrest. This worked for a bit, but then his legs went numb. His eyes glanced over to Harry, sprawled out on his back, looking extremely comfortable on the couch. _Well, why should he be comfortable when I'm not?_

"Potter, switch seats with me," Draco demanded. Harry looked at him for a moment, then shook his head.

"No, I'm perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you," he scoffed.

"Dammit, Potter, switch with me! This chair is bloody uncomfortable!"

"Then why do I have to sit in it?" Harry whined.

"Stop questioning me and switch!"

"No!"

"If you don't get off your lazy ass, I will sit on your stomach! Now get up!" Harry didn't budge an inch. This just made Draco angrier, and true to his word, he got up and sat on Harry's stomach.

"Oomph!" Harry cried under the sudden weight. "Get off me!" he yelled, trying to breathe deeply.

"Are you going to move then?" Draco asked, trying to keep a firm seat atop the wriggling Harry.

"No," he replied defiantly, warranting Malfoy to push down with all his weight. "But we can share the couch, so get off me!" Harry quickly added, pushing Draco off finally. He scooted to the right side of the couch. Draco got up off the floor and dusted himself off. He sat on the left side, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

The movie went on and Sarah found herself being wooed by Jareth quite expertly. Draco almost sighed when the Goblin King sat on the windowsill, circling the crystals in his hand before sending them off like bubbles. However, Draco was still uncomfortable. He wanted to lie down, but that would mean touching Potter, who absolutely refused to move.

"Potter, go sit in the chair," he ordered.

"I don't want to!" Harry replied.

"Fine then, if you won't move," Draco said, grabbing a pillow. He set the pillow in Harry's lap and proceeded to lay his head sideways on top of it, acting as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. Harry stared down at the blonde in surprise. What was he supposed do now? Malfoy was in his lap, sort of. There was no place to put his left arm. Cautiously and slowly he set it down upon Malfoy's shoulder, hoping the other boy wouldn't flinch.

Malfoy didn't flinch. Harry sighed with relief. On screen, Sarah and Jareth were dancing in a dream ball.

"There's such a sad love, deep in your eyes. A kind of pale jewel opened and closed within your eyes. I'll place the sky, within your eyes," Jareth sang, as they waltzed in circles. Draco sighed dreamily, obviously wishing he was in Sarah's place. Harry's left hand wandered and found itself stroking the silver-blonde locks softly. Draco tensed slightly.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold, I'll spin you Valentine evenings, though we're strangers till now, we're choosing a path between the stars. I'll lay my love, between the stars." Such poetry. Draco turned his body so that he was staring upwards, oblivious to the raven-haired boy above him. Harry blinked a few times, a strange feeling washing over him. Such normally piercing eyes, looking so soft as they gazed to the ceiling. Draco's gaze faltered and switched to Harry's questioning green ones. What the hell was happening?

"But I'll be there for you, as the world falls down," sang the TV. Draco closed his eyes, a peaceful look upon his face. Finding himself leaning downwards, Harry pressed his lips to Draco's ever so gently. They were so soft. So warm. What was he doing? Harry's eyes opened in panic, lips still attached to the other boy's. He was about to pull away when he felt a hand upon his neck, tugging him closer. Harry's eyes closed again. The lips underneath his began to move, and he found himself responding. A tongue pleaded entrance, and he granted, wondering why in the world he'd never done this before.

Meanwhile, Draco's mind was bouncing off the walls. Who knew Harry could snog so well? Was Harry a snogging-virgin? He seemed to know what he was doing, but there was still some clumsiness on his part. _Ahahaha_, Draco laughed in his head. _If he is, then I have popped his proverbial cherry! Wait, he kissed me. Oh well. I'm his first. Maybe. Probably. Oh shut up now!_

It seemed like forever when Harry finally pulled away, a dazed grin on his face. The grin faded quickly though when he suddenly realized what he'd been doing. He didn't seem to care that he had been kissing a boy, no, that wasn't it. It was Draco Malfoy! _Holy shit! What am I getting myself into_? his thoughts run amuck, and before he could think, Harry had jumped up (knocking Malfoy to the floor) and ran out the door.

Draco found himself getting up off the floor and dusting himself off for the second time that evening. He was extremely confused. Had he just made out with Potter?


	6. 87 Minutes and 23 Seconds

**Chapter 6**

"Harry!" Seamus cried, a little too loudly, the second Harry had set foot inside the common room, dashing all hopes of being by himself for the rest of the night. "You look like you've just seen a ghost," the other boy commented. Harry just looked at him, unable to think of what to say. It was then that Hermione came down the stairs. The stairs from the boys' dorms. And her hair was frizzier than normal. Harry raised an eyebrow in question, but his female friend ignored it completely.

"Where's my movie?" she asked. "I feel a Bowie withdrawal coming on."

"Shit," he muttered. He'd been in such a hurry to leave, he'd left the movie and everything else behind.

"Did you leave it in Draco's room?" she asked, lowering her voice so no one else would hear. Harry's eyes widened a bit. How did she know? Wait, wait, duh, she's Hermione, she knows almost everything. He nodded, turning slightly red.

"Well?" Hermione's eyes bore a hole through him.

"Well, what?" he replied, slightly worried what her answer would be.

"Go back and get it!" she nearly shouted. Harry started to leave, but she grabbed him by the shoulder. "Just use 'alohomora', he should probably be making his rounds as Head Boy right now," she all but pushed him out the portrait hole.

"Merlin, you think she wouldn't be so strung out after getting some," he muttered to himself.

Draco stared at his clock. He had been sitting on his bed, thinking calmly and rationally about the situation before him for the past 87 minutes and 23 seconds since Harry had left_. I told you there'd be hormones flying_, said the voice. Draco groaned loudly. He was seriously considering seeking help. It just wasn't normal to have a voice in your head. _Maybe if I put the movie back on_, he thought. _David always puts me in a good mood. I can figure this all out later. Yes, that's what I'll do. _

And he settled himself back on the couch, and started the movie over again.

Harry took as long as he possibly could, walking back to Draco's room. Thoughts of what had just happened replayed over and over again in his head. He couldn't put words to his thoughts though. His mind kept trying to make up excuses for making out with Draco, but they were only half-formed, or they did not make any sense.

Suddenly he was at Draco's door, despite the fact that he had been walking as slowly as he could and taking the longest route possible, or so he'd thought. He pressed his ear up against the door, but heard nothing, so he pulled out his wand, and whispered the unlocking charm.

As soon as he walked in, he was blasted with music. Harry nearly fainted at the site before him.

Draco was shirtless and pantless (but not boxerless) and dancing like a maniac. In the background, David Bowie was doing much the same thing on the TV, only he was more clothed, as he sang "Dance Magic Dance." Harry stood there shocked for a whole minute before Draco noticed him.

Draco let out a small shriek and ran off his bed and shut the door.

"Are you mad? What are you doing back here? What makes you think you have the right to invade my privacy?" he shouted over the music. He went over to the TV and turned the volume down all the way. Then he waited for a response from the gaping raven-haired boy before him.

"I….I…er, I…" he tried to speak, but no words came to him. "Oh fuck it," he panted and finally gave up the mental battle in his head, strode over to the expectant blonde, and latched his lips onto Draco's.

Draco tried to struggle for a moment. He felt he should be mad for having been walked out on so rudely. But his good old friend in his pants had thoughts otherwise. He linked his arms around Harry's back and responded with much enthusiasm, until they collapsed onto the bed.


	7. DAMN WHOEVER INVENTED ALOHOMORA

i can honestly say that chapter 8 will be out soon, cause it's in beta right now. but chapter 9, well...we'll see..

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**Chapter 7**

Harry snapped his eyes open the next morning, very confused by his surroundings. He turned his head to the side, and saw blonde all over the pillow. His eyes widened.

"Draco," he whispered, shaking the blonde. He mumbled and rolled over on top of Harry's arm. Harry shoved him really hard, resulting in Draco landing on the floor.

"Not again," Draco mumbled to himself. "You better have a damn good reason for that, Potter," he warned, attempting to at least prop himself on all fours, but failing and thumping on the floor.

"Did we? Last night?" Harry questioned, his voice panicky.

"Obviously not. No one forgets a night with a Malfoy. And honestly, did you think I would give it up the first night? I'm not a hussy, you know," he pointed out, finally gaining an upward stance.

"That's not what I heard," Harry muttered, still discombobulated and out of sorts.

"Excuse me! I'll have you know—" the blond started, until they heard voices outside the door. There was a click, and it began to inch open. Several females were outside his door.

"Can we see his bathroom?" one asked. Whom she asked, neither boy was sure. Draco winced as another female added her 2 cents worth.

"OOH! I BET HE SHOWERS NAKED!" she shrieked, followed by an insane number of giggles.

"Ladies, ladies, please keep it down. Wouldn't want to wake him and cut short our tour," a male whispered. Colin Creevy popped his head through the doorway. His camera stuck through in front of him and it flashed quickly.

Draco gave up being still and let them all have it just as Colin opened the door entirely.

"How dare you! Creevy, you cretin! How'd you get in here anyways?" Draco demanded.

"Shit," Colin muttered. Girls filtered through the doorway, pushing their tour guide aside, oohing and aahing at the room around them. Colin began shooing the girls out (most of them first years), but not before he took a few snapshots of his own. Harry stood beside the bed, frozen like a statue. His face was confused and shocked, mouth gaping open. Very un-Harry like. Then again, this was a very un-Harry like situation.

"GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! DAMN YOU ALL! DAMN WHOEVER INVENTED 'ALOHAMORA'! GET OUT NOW!" Draco bellowed, running around his room, shoving girls out the door. Before Creevy could make it through though, Draco snatched the camera from his grasp. Colin shouted, but that's all he could do because Draco promptly slammed the door in his face.

"Mon dieu," he cried, exasperated as he leaned against the door. "I wonder how long he's been doing that. No wonder pictures of me scantily clad wound up on the internet. Bastard. As soon as I start paying attention in DADA again, I'm going to skewer him," he ranted.

Even the internet comment slid over Harry's head. Just when he thought he'd be getting his own privacy, with the war over now and everything. Newspapers had stopped caring about him as much. His name appeared in the news maybe once a month now, instead of weekly. But now this would get out. Rita Skeeter would have the best day of her life. He collapsed onto Draco's bed, ignoring the imposing figure that stood over him.

"Well, you going to say anything?"

"I think I'd better go," Harry said, getting up and brushing past Draco.

"Oh yes, run away Potter. It's what you do best nowadays," Draco snapped as the boy-wonder rushed out his door.


	8. We've Got 5 Years

the shiteth doth hitteth the faneth.

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**Chapter 8**

"WHEN WERE YOU PLANNING ON TELLING ME?" a voice shrieked. Harry groaned and pulled the covers completely over his face. It was late afternoon. He'd had all day to lay in solitude and think about what had happened, before his lovely siesta was finally interrupted.

"Bugger off, Ron. Jeez, anyone tell you, you sound exactly like your mother?" he mumbled.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Ron shrieked, yanking open the bed curtains. He grabbed hold of the comforter and flung it off the bed, leaving Harry exposed. He hadn't bothered to change into his pajamas and pretend that he had slept in the dorm last night. He had been expecting some kind of confrontation, but no one could fully prepare their ears for the decibel level of the Weasley shriek.

"I just had a first year come and ask me if it was true, that the greatest rivals Hogwarts has seen this century, were in fact, INVOLVED!" Ron paced madly around Harry's bed, his boots pounding on the stone floor. "Tell me! What exactly were you thinking?" Ron thought a moment; Harry could almost see the light bulb appear above his head. "Did _David_ make you do it? Was there something in one of his songs that made you think 'Oi, I should go snog my worst enemy!' "

_I kiss you, you're beautiful, I want you to walk! We've got five years!_ came to Harry's mind, but he thought it best if he didn't bring that up.

"Just shut it, Ron, alright?" Harry had finally had enough of his best friend's rantings. "For your information, we really haven't been hostile to eachother in awhile, probably due to the fact that his father is locked away and his mother is nowhere to be found. And oh, I lost someone who was like a father to me. So maybe I was just thinking that we had a little more in common than I'd thought about before. We're both orphans now." His voice lost its angry tone as he continued, becoming more exasperated and confused. "I don't know why I did it. I just…did."

"What do you mean 'it'? AHH! HERMIONE WAS RIGHT! YOU WERE SHACKIN—"

"We were not! The only thing that happened was a bit of snogging is all." He grinned a little sheepishly. "And I kinda liked it."

Ron made gagging noises. There was an awkward silence.

"So do you think the whole school knows?" Harry ventured.

"Do I think? No. I KNOW the whole school knows," Ron began to warm up again for another rant, but before he could, Hermione barged in.

"You know, you're really not supposed to be in here, Herm," Harry sighed, laying back down on his own bed.

"Speaking of places you're not supposed to be," she started, but there was no hint of enjoyment in her voice. Harry groaned.

"Oh I know you know. You knew before I knew. And you weren't ever gonna tell me. You were just gonna play matchmaker with the two of us and then sit back and smile, eh?" he accused, though not very heatedly. Hermione did not smile. She gulped and handed Harry a newspaper.

"It's the evening edition, just came out. Not everyone gets it delivered, but enough do that people will be making a mad dash for the stands after they hear from friends."

Smack dab on the front page was a very obvious and badly pasted together photo of Harry and Draco. You could even see the tear in the middle of the photo. The editors must have been in a hurry, but people would forgive the horrible picture for the juicy news.

He had known this was coming, and yet he still hadn't realized how much this would affect himself and Draco. _Oh Merlin_, he thought. _Draco will be furious._ The humiliation would be almost unbearable. Harry couldn't deal with this. He had to get out. Had to get away. Go somewhere and think, uninterrupted.

He left the newspaper on his bed and went to his trunk to get his Firebolt. Broomstick in hand, he looked into Ron's eyes, and then Hermione's, and then went out the door. Hermione at least understood, but she had to hold Ron back.

"Give him time, or there won't be any pieces to pick up, Ron," she sighed, resting her chin on his shoulder.


	9. Disgrace our Head Boy, will ya?

do we really need such disclaimers? I don't own then, I've never owned them, I'll never own them, no matter how bad I want to. Thank you to Miss Ariana Spencer for betaing this time. She said she sucked at betaing. Apparently not.  
to readers... i'm sorry this took so long...i'm so mean and bad..

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**Chapter 9**

The quidditch pitch was deserted, thankfully. He mounted his broom and immediately began laps. His speed accelerated until the laps he completed were dizzying and had anyone been watching, they wouldn't have been able to follow him. He needed the speed. The speed somehow made things make sense. He could control this speed, unlike the newspapers, and what other people thought.

Harry was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the bludger racing towards him. The next thing he was aware of was a very free feeling, falling most likely, but Harry didn't realize this until he hit the ground with a sickening thud. His mind began to go bonkers, wondering if any bones had been broken. He wiggled all his joints and found nothing hurt, so he slowly sat up.

That is, he began to sit up until someone's foot connected with his face. Harry found himself staring up at blurry faces (his glasses had fallen off) who were dressed in black robes lined with green. Had to be Slytherins.

"Disgrace our Head Boy, will ya? Just wasn't enough defeating the Dark Lord, now you have to go and defile what's left!" someone scowled. A fist landed on his stomach and Harry felt his body roll on its side and curl into the fetal position. Fists and feet and legs rained on his body for an indefinable period, until they finally stopped.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, worried they were still around. He received one more strong kick to the stomach and then he saw the black blurs move away in a group that looked as large as the one that had come down.

Every part of him ached, but the part that was really wounded was his dignity. Though his conscience knew he never would have had a chance with that big of a group, he felt he still should have tried to fight back.

Another part of him was amazed about what had just happened. Those boys could have cursed him into oblivion. But then, Harry realized, the spells could have been traced back to them. Clever. Well, that was the key Slytherin trait, wasn't it?

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It took him awhile, but Harry managed to drag himself back to the castle. At the main entrance, he used the railing to steady himself as he stood up, then slipped through the door quietly. Everyone seemed to be at dinner, so he silently made his way up to the prefect's bathroom and let himself in (the password hadn't changed.) 

A calm feeling overwhelmed him as he stumbled over to the bath. It was very painful to strip the clothes off, but he had to in order to assess the damage. He pulled his wand out of his pants and quickly summoned his glasses. When they arrived he repaired them and then placed them on his face.

The brunt of his bruises were around his abdomen, which would explain why he had trouble breathing. Suddenly, giggling floated into his ears. He groaned and turned his head to the side, to catch a glimpse without exposing himself.

"Don't worry, Harry. I've got my eyes covered. I just think it's funny that this isn't the first time this has happened," came the shrill, yet familiar girlish voice.

"Myrtle…" he sighed, walking towards the swimming pool of a tub. "Yes, do please keep them closed. At least until I've got the bubbles running," he said, carefully lowering himself onto the porcelain seat. To his right were several faucets. He tried a few until warm (but not too hot) water began to fill the bath. Another tap filled in a layer of lavender foam.

"Are you done, yet?" Myrtle whined. Harry's ears went back, like a horse's did when something is agitating it.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"Where'd you get all the bruises from?" she asked, startling him.

"I thought you said you didn't look!" he shouted, annoyed with her and not caring that any moment she could burst out into one of her stupid crying fits.

"You did catch me off guard too, I only saw a little," she commented, surprisingly unaffected by his outburst.

"Nowhere, I fell down the stairs," he said, realizing how dumb and unconvincing he sounded after the words had left his mouth. He could care less. Who was Myrtle to judge anyone?

"Is it true then, you and the Malfoy boy?" Her audacity unhinged him. He felt unguarded.

"Not anymore. I've gone and screwed things over," he mumbled, rubbing at his ribcage trying to feel where it hurt most. He gasped softly, finding a very tender spot.

"What did you do?" she asked curiously. She now sat next to the bath, almost at the edge of it. Her eyes stayed level with the marble walls though.

"I made a stupid choice and landed us a scandal in the newspaper.."

"Well that was dumb. But why is it over?"

"Are you thick? He's not gonna want to come near me after being ridiculed by that Skeeter Cow. We'll both be the laughing stock of the wizarding world for years to come. Would you want anything to do with someone who did that to you?" he demanded of her.

"No, I guess not. You're right to come and hide in here," she said. Her calling what he was doing "hiding" really annoyed Harry. Sooner or later he was gonna lay it on her verbally.

"I'm not hiding! Merlin, just leave me the hell alone. I didn't ask for your advice anyways," he stated and turned his back to her, soaping up his shoulders slowly, wincing at the movement of his arms.

"Fine," she began to sniffle. She almost began a full-out cry fest when she suddenly stopped.

"You're always welcome to hide out in my bathroom, Harry. I'll keep you company," and then she was gone.

"GET OUT!" he shouted, then immediately cringed. Shouting put pressure on his lungs, which hurt like a rabid bitch.

None of what she had said had been helpful. But then it dawned on Harry that it was what she hadn't said.

He realized what he needed to do.


	10. til the bleedin' stops

No, I have not died. I am horrendously sorry that yall have been kept waiting so long. There is an epilogue, and I PROMISE it will be posted within a few days of this last chapter. Thanks for helping me with finishing my first multi-chapter story/fic :) I really appreciate it. And I love everyone who's betaed for me and who's read me and who's replied to me. MAHALO.

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**Chapter 10**

Draco lay elegantly spread across the paisley chaise lounge chair, his eyes closed in ecstasy as the music played on. Tonight's selection was "Time," a rather silly but profound little tune. The walls were covered in various and sundry glam rock posters from the 70's. Most of them were of the Sex God himself, others were of his glitter-cohorts (Iggy and Lou.) Instead of listening in his room, he had decided that he needed privacy that could not be invaded with a simple 'alohomora.'

He had also chosen to hole up in the Room of Requirement until the talk died down that night.

Unfortunately, his peace was interrupted as a certain unkempt Gryffindor limped slowly through the door, clutching his sides.

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded, putting the music on pause.

Harry paused, stood straight up, wincing slightly. His face took on a sarcastic look.

"Oh, you know, having a bit of a stroll 'til the bleedin' stops….." Harry coughed. "I was looking for you, you git."

"You're bleeding?" Draco's voice had a hint of concern. He had jumped up from the chair. Realizing this made him look concerned, he sat down and cleared his throat, hoping he wasn't too conspicuous. To be doubly sure, he turned the music back on, but at a much lower volume.

"No, you arse. But I was. Your bloody cronies saw that I got the beating of my life," he hobbled over to the couch opposite Draco's chair and slowly lowered himself onto it.

"They did, did they?" Draco sighed.

"Yeah. Followed me out to the quidditch pitch, they did. Decided I was disgracing you, and I should have to pay."

There was an awkward silence in which all that could be heard was the lazy piano of "Time" and Harry's labored breathing.

"You know, this is where the DA used to practice last year," Harry started, conversationally.

"Of course! Who didn't know?" Draco exclaimed rather loudly. He composed himself, then muttered, "well, except Umbridge. Stupid bint. Really had no idea about jack shit that was going on around this place. That's why she took us on as her 'Inquisitorial Squad'," that last bit spoken with an air of mock authority.

Harry breathed harder for a moment, which Draco soon realized was supposed to be laughter.

"You shouldn't be laughing," he pointed out. Then in a softer voice, Draco said, "Look, about earlier…"

"It's alright mate. You don't need to apologize," Harry said. He slowly sat himself up straighter, his eyes trying to catch the gaze of the boy in front of him.

"I wasn't going to apologize. You were a right git to run away like that. What's with you and running away, these days? What happened to confronting the problem head on, like you did before?"

"Maybe I'm tired of doing that! Besides, the only thing that counted for is done in my life. Voldemort is gone. I can live my life perfectly fine now, without having to deal with confrontation," Harry ranted, not realizing how stupid he sounded.

"You are even more dense than I thought," Draco huffed, walking over to a window. It wasn't a real window because the Room of Requirement was in the center of the castle, but it was enchanted to look out over the lake. "This doesn't count? This isn't worth your time?" he said finally, gesturing between the two of them.

Harry's heart sank as the meaning took hold.

"If you haven't already figured out, I have become quite fond of you," Draco stated. "But you can forget about everything unless you're willing to work with me on this."

Harry grinned.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? You need to work with me, **work** being the key word here," Draco continued.

"You're fond of me," Harry grinned again.

"Oh shove off, that's not the important thing," Draco sighed, exasperated. "First of all, I'd like you to instigate public displays of affection every now and then. I do not want people thinking that we are monks. Second of all, a compliment here and there wouldn't hurt. And last of all, you simply must stop running from things. If we have problems, we need to talk them out."

Harry laughed.

"Since when have you been the poster-boy for communication?" He laughed so hard his ribs began aching again. It took him a minute or two for the pain to subside. When it did, he looked back up at Draco. "And actually, the fondness is important. Now, will you help a gimp up please?" Harry begged.

Draco sighed wistfully. It seemed that everything would eventually work itself out, as it was obvious that all would not be fixed now. He held out his hands to the petulant Gryffindor. Harry grabbed them and with a pull, he was to his feet. His head suddenly became dizzy though, and he found himself resting it on Draco's shoulder.

"Oi.. Stood up too fast, I guess."

"S'ok," Draco whispered, wrapping his arms around Harry, careful not to squeeze any bruises. They held each other for a moment until Harry was fine. Both boys pulled apart and looked at one another. An understanding passed between them that warmed them both. Their faces began leaning forward just as the door opened.

"And this is the Room of Requirement, ladies and gentleman," came a familiar, squirrelly voice. "This room is extra special because….. OH MY GOODNESS!" The moment of the pause was when Colin Creevey's head made it through the door. It swung wide open and the tender scene was shown to all. At least 20 people, mainly females, stood wide-eyed and mouths gaping open.

Draco's eyes darted to Harry's face, worried there would be panic in it. Instead of panic, there was a mischievous glint in the boy's eyes.

"Let's give the papers something to write about," he whispered excitedly, and then proceeded to lip-lock the stunned blonde in what could rank among the top five most passionate kisses ever. Well, in the 20th century, that is.

The tourists broke into applause and then they and Colin finally left after several more flashes of the camera. Draco pulled away, gasping for breath. The green eyes before him glittered with fire.

The fire began to infect Draco too. He began to feel a bit feverish, but not in the flu-way. With a wicked grin on his face, Draco leaned in once more and hissed, "Hot tramp, I love you so."

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Once again, I repeat, there is an Epilogue. It has been written, it is in beta right now, but it will be out in a day or two. My poor beta is in college too, so she needs a bit longer than normal. 


	11. he prances around

It only took me a little over 3 years, but I finally finished my first multi-chapter story. With this one finished, I really hope that the ideas still keep coming to me, and I can keep yall entertained for...well, I dunno for how long. Thanks to Chel for the superfast beta job on this. And as the wise man said, "This ain't rock n roll, this is genocide"

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**Epilogue**

The end of the year was finally upon Hogwarts. Graduation had occurred and of course all the 7th years had gotten properly schnockered that same night. Everyone groaned as they packed up their trunks. Some were a bit teary, knowing it was their last time doing so. Those who would not see each other on the train said their goodbyes and exchanged their addresses and telephone numbers (those who knew what a phone was), and promises of visits over the summer holiday.

It was the final morning and all the students had been herded into the carriages that took them to the train station. On the train ride, Draco sat against one of the windows in their car, Harry with his back against Draco, legs sprawled and covering the rest of the seat. Hermione and Ron were a bit more reserved, choosing just to sit side by side and caress eachother's hands. Ron actually had a pair of earphones on and was bobbing his head slightly. Every now and then he would mumble the word "Pink," but no one paid attention to him.

The black mop of hair before Draco proved entertaining and a place to keep his hands busy, weaving his fingers in and out, stopping every now and again to untangle a knot. Harry's eyes kept threatening to roll back into his head; he was beside himself with mirth.

As they neared King's Cross, they all forfeited their comfy positions and got up to retrieve their belongings from above. In doing so, Draco discovered he had a wrapped gift that he had forgotten about.

"Granger," he said. Hermione turned around from getting her own things.

"Yeah?"

He handed her the flat box wrapped in a glittery paper.

"At the beginning of the year, you gave me a highly distracting poster that interfered with my studies and caused me, on more than one occasion, to blow up my cauldron. So, in turn, I have for you something that should prove to be as equally distracting, and I sincerely hope that you will be glued to it all summer long, thus interfering with _your_ summer projects assigned by your university." He grinned his signature grin. She raised an eyebrow, set her other stuff down and began to pull the paper off.

"Why, it's a DVD…. And it's….the Labyrinth?" She glanced down to the right-hand corner (discreetly of course, so Draco would not notice) and saw her own initials of H.G. marked there. Her eyes darted to Harry with a venomous glare. Harry stared for a moment and then turned very flush. He suddenly became very busy with unloading his things from above. He ushered Ron to hurry up and they both were off the train in seconds.

Hermione gritted her teeth a bit.

"Why Draco, how kind of you," she replied finally, after composing herself.

"I most definitely recommend the 'Dance, Magic, Dance' sequence. You'll die, it's so utterly fantastic," Draco went on. Hermione got off the train nodding away to his incessant comments, but really she was shaking her head at him.

"He wears these marvelous tights with simply superb knee-high riding boots and he prances around…."


End file.
